Never Coming Back
by Indarae
Summary: Percy is given an offer he can't refuse - but how can he accept when he knows what's waiting?


A/N: A bit of a prologue for an idea I'm working on — in the same universe as "Musings of a Death Eater." Look for it after the finish of "Sunday, Bloody Sunday".

**** Never Going Back 

"So tired that I couldn't even sleep

So many secrets I couldn't keep

Promised myself I wouldn't weep

One more promise I couldn't keep."

-Soul Asylum, "Runaway Train"

He came to my office today. What do you do when one of the most powerful men in the Ministry shows up in front of your desk, sneers, and offers you a new job? And not just any new job, THE job — secretary to the Minister of Magic. Just a step away from the top, the place I've always wanted to be. And with the way Fudge is handling things, that place will be open in just a few years, Malfoy's practically offering it to me on a platter. How do you turn away from that sort of power, when it comes with such a price?

"Percy? Cedric Diggory is dead. You-Know-Who killed him." I barely like Quidditch — why should the death of a Hufflepuff Seeker, however nice he'd been, bring anything more than a moment's reflection? I didn't even know the boy, but after two years of attacks and fear since the night he died, I find myself thinking of the life snuffed out more and more often. 

And then —he- showed up this morning and offered me the job. How do you turn down fame? Or give up more money than my poor father had ever set eyes on? Me, Secretary to the Minister. Or Minister of Magic. What I could do with the job! I'd clean everything up, idealistic as it sounds. Vampires and Werewolves, I'd repeal the registry laws. And I'd take the gag off the press; reverse the mistakes Fudge has made. And after that, I'd shout to the world that You-Know-Who truly is back and we're in terrible danger, and if we could only band together —

But I couldn't. I have to turn it down. The price is too high. To be Minister, I can't be me. I couldn't shout to the world about the dangers, because I'd be one myself. Lucius Malfoy thinks that offering me power on a silver platter will hide the strings attatched. If I took that job, I'd end up a Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy would be the ones pulling my strings, just a puppet in the hands of a master of manipulation. Or is he really a master? You-Know-Who pulls his strings as much as Lucius Malfoy pulls any. 

Is that how the Dark Lord trapped Lucius? With an offer of a seat in the Ministry, power beyond all imaginings, more money than the richest wizard could imagine? He's not going to trap me like that, I'm not going to go silently into the night and hand over my Light to his Darkness for a title. 

Except I've always wanted to be Minister of Magic. How do you turn down your dreams? And when you do, what happens then? Because if I turn down Lucius Malfoy, the life I have to look forward to will likely be short and painful. Power, darkness, and LIFE or misery and death? 

What a choice to be made. I'm twenty-one, I'm far too young to die. Too young to be Minister of Magic, really. If Malfoy tried to give me the seat now, it would be obvious that I was merely a puppet. The Dark Lord wouldn't want that, would he? No, it'll be years before they give me the seat, and maybe by the time I have it —

I'm not thinking about taking the offer. I'm not. I can't. I will not give up my family and my soul for the title of Minister. Percy Weasley, third oldest of the Weasley brood, Gryffindor Prefect and Bighead Boy, that's me. A short hour in the spotlight isn't worth the loss of my humanity. Too many secrets. Life without a soul or screaming death with honour intact, that's the question.

"Percy?" 

I wasn't expecting anyone to come upstairs after I left the table. They know better than to disturb me when I'm up brooding, as Fred and George so loving call my private work time. But it's neither of them, thank whatever deity might be listening. It's mum. Too many secrets. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to tell her about all of this — "Yes, Mum? I just had a tough day at work, no need to worry or anything of the sort."

She pushes open the door and pokes her head in anyways, flashing a bright smile in my direction. She's always looked out for me, against three pranking younger brothers. "You looked out of sorts at dinner. Would you tell me about it?"

I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to — One more promise I couldn't keep. She holds me close and I pour out my secrets: the offer, the menacing smirk on Lucius Malfoy's face and the threats of death if I refuse, Fudge's latest mistakes. And she just lets me cry.

When did things stop being cut and dry, black and white, day and night? Evil tempts more strongly than I'd ever thought it would for me. I thought I was untouchable, but it seems I've managed to lead myself astray. I'm so sick of it — sick of the war, the death, the shades of grey the Ministry hides in! There's no way out.

"Headmaster Dumbledore will know what to do," she murmurs, standing and crossing to the door faster than I've ever seen her move. That's always her answer, since Diggory died and Harry aged a hundred years in one night. Dumbledore will know, Dumbledore will fix it — and until that moment, I would've believed her. Gods, I'm jaded toward life, and I'm only twenty-one years old!

I want to get away. I want to buy a ticket and hop on a train and ride out of this jaded, grey, scarred existance. But I can't. I run, and Lucius Malfoy will find me, You-Know-Who will find me and I'll rue the day I set foot in the Ministry, bright-eyed, idealistic, and eighteen.

But tomorrow morning, I'll put on a fresh set of robes, Apparate to work, and wait for Lucius Malfoy to make an appearance. When he offers the job and names the price of power, I'll stand firm and tell him exactly where he can shove it. Fred used to joke that I should've been a Slytherin, but I'll show him exactly why I was a Gryffindor in school. Maybe they'll even put it on my tombstone — brave to the end. Stupid, but brave.

I'm in too deep. No way out but death. I'm only twenty-one, I'm too young to die, but it's either death with honour or life without a soul. No way out. Even Dumbledore can't fix this one — no one can.

The door opens. Mum slips in and closes it again. She looks afraid, terribly afraid. She's my mother, she's not supposed to look that scared and childlike in her terror — but she comes and sits by me with the biggest smile she can muster. "I talked to Headmaster Dumbledore, luv. And he's got a plan. I don't like it, and I know your father won't, but there's really no other way, is there?" She takes a deep breath and looks at me sadly, resigned to my fate. "Albus wants you to be a spy."

No way out. And everyone knows what happens to a spy that gets caught. Isn't that just one more shade of grey? 

"It seems noone can help me now

I'm in too deep there's no way out  
This time I've really led myself a-stray

Runaway train, never goin' back

Wrong way on a one-way track

Seems like I should be getting somewhere

Somehow I'm neither here nor there."

-Soul Asylum, "Runaway Train"


End file.
